EMERSON SCANNED THE SCREEN IN front of him for what felt like the hundredth time. He wasn’t any closer to understanding the numbers stacked in their columns in front of him. Usually numbers were something he could count on. He’d made a living seeing patterns others couldn’t, but every time he started going over the accounts for Rockcliff, his attention drifted to the woman upstairs in his apartment. Having Sophie in his space was doing a number on him. The fact that he couldn’t imagine her anywhere else only compounded his issues. It didn’t matter how he looked at it; he was well and truly screwed.

It didn’t help that she’d done nothing to discourage his attention and everything to pull him closer. When he’d lost his mind and kissed her, she’d kissed him back, opening for him, wrapping her leg around him and pulling him into the hot V of her lithe body. He’d had to force himself to let go before he did something stupid, like strip her naked and kiss every inch of her body until the only thing she could say was his name as she came apart in his arms. Under his mouth.

He ran a hand through his hair tightening his grip until he felt the small bite of pain, desperate for anything that would help him regain control. He’d managed to walk away from her the night before. To haul his ass down the hall and into a cold shower that didn’t do a thing to dampen his desire for her. But she’d been there when he woke up, sitting at his breakfast bar, fresh-faced and impossibly young, her blue-eyed gaze practically daring him to do filthy, filthy things to her. He wasn’t proud of the impulse, but it was almost as if the more innocent she looked, the more he wanted to have her, to be the one to smear her lip gloss, to tease and taste her until her lips were swollen from his kisses. Which was exactly why he had to keep his hands—and mouth—to himself.

Sophie was too young and too innocent for him. She made beautiful things for a living. She was an artist who looked at the world through that lens, and he was too jaded to see it as anything other than flawed. She belonged with someone like Gabe, with a man she could laugh with. Someone she could play with. The thought of her with someone else twisted uncomfortably in his stomach, but it didn’t make it any less true. He was building his business, and she was just starting out. Neither of them needed the compromise that love demanded.

“How long are you planning on staring at that?” said Gabe, dropping into the chair next to him.

“Nice of you to decide to show up for work.” Fresh on the heels of the thoughts he’d been having, it was easy to direct his anger at his brother.

“It’s barely nine, man. Berlin sends her love.” Gabe smiled like a man who spent the night in the arms of the woman he loved instead of tossing and turning down the hall from a woman he couldn’t have.

“Yeah, and work starts at eight.” It wasn’t, strictly speaking, the truth. He was almost always in the office by seven, seven thirty at the latest, but the others came in at different times depending on the jobs they were working. Gabe might never be the first one into the office but he pulled his share of the weight.

“Ouch. Sounds like somebody had a rough night. Sophie could stay at my place if you want.”

“No.” It might be hard having Sophie in his space, but it would be a thousand times harder wondering where she was and what she was doing, worrying about whether she was safe. “What makes you think this has anything to do with Sophie?” The denial was too late, but he had to try.

“Oh please.”

“She’s fine where she is.”

“Doesn’t sound like it to me.” Gabe leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands behind his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Emerson knew the truth was different than the show, but he also knew his brother to be a basically carefree guy. It was part of what made him and Berlin such a good fit. They balanced each other.

“I didn’t ask you.”

“Lighten up, man. I just came to tell you I finished the system layout for Endville. What do you want me on next? The system for that investment firm needs to be reworked before their event at the end of the month. I could get a head start on that. Or take the day off if I’m in your way.” Gabe held his hands up in front of him and grinned at Emerson. The only thing that saved his brother was knowing he’d double down on the poking if he thought he might actually get a reaction from Emerson.

“Get with Andrews and see about pulling the traffic camera feed from around the store the night Sophie was attacked. Go out a couple of blocks if you have to and see if you can find anything we can work with.”

He’d done the preliminary search himself back when his focus had been on protecting Seaton’s interest. Protecting Sophie was infinitely more important. He’d pull in every resource at his disposal to make sure he never had to see those bruised shadows under her eyes again. And then when he was sure she was safe, he’d get her out of his house and find a way to get her out of his head before he did something stupid, like cross lines he had no business crossing.

“Sure, but I thought you didn’t believe the two incidents were related.”

He still didn’t. The sloppy break-in didn’t fit at all with the sniper-style shooting. The only thing the two had in common was Sophie.

“I don’t, but until something shakes loose, it’s all we have to go on.” The police hadn’t found anything useful at the site where the shooter waited, and there was no evidence anyone had been in Sophie’s place, which left Emerson with way too many variables and not nearly enough answers.

“Is she okay?” The concern was clear in his brother’s voice and Emerson’s mood shifted a couple of degrees.

He wouldn’t relax until the police had Sophie’s assailant in custody and he knew she was safe, but it felt good knowing he wasn’t carrying the burden alone. In reality, for as uptight and in control as he was, he’d never been completely on his own. He had his parents and his brother and sisters and then the men who worked for him who’d become more family than employees. He thought about Liam, tucked away with his farmer and the goats. He knew without asking the other man would be back to help in a heartbeat if Emerson needed him.

It made him wonder what Sophie’s family was like if she didn’t have anyone else to call when she was in the hospital. How did a twenty-three year old woman from Australia end up working in North Carolina? There was a lot he didn’t know about his houseguest.

“As okay as you can expect someone to be after they’ve been bludgeoned and shot at.” All things considered, Sophie had handled the attacks remarkably well.

Most people in her position would have been at least a little freaked out by the previous couple of days’ events. Sophie had been scared—terrified, even—as the gun man was shooting at them. He’d felt her fear when she was pinned underneath him and seen it in her eyes when he finally helped her to her feet. But she’d never lost her cool, not once. Not when she woke up in the hospital with him looming over her or when the bullets were flying. She’d taken all of it in stride, adapted, and kept moving forward. 

Either Sophie Taylor wasn’t aware enough to realize how much danger she’d been in or this wasn’t the first time she been in danger. No one would describe the woman upstairs in his apartment as unaware, which meant his houseguest wasn’t as inexperienced as she looked. It was time for him to learn more about the woman disrupting his sleep and making him adjust the temperature on his showers to artic. In the absence of any other useful clues, maybe he’d find something in Sophie’s past to explain why someone would be gunning for her. Literally.

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SOPHIE HIT THE button on the elevator and prayed she didn’t need some kind of code to get off at the floor for Southerland Security. Emerson had been gone by the time she woke up. He’d made it clear she could help herself to anything in his cupboards, but she felt weird hanging out in his apartment alone. She’d been so scared after the shooting; she hadn’t really thought through what it would be like to be trapped in a stranger’s place with nothing to do but think about the mess her life had turned into. She didn’t even have her sketchbook. Or her car. Emerson didn’t have any tea. The whole thing was unsustainable.

She wasn’t going to run away. Despite his hesitancy the previous night, she still liked the idea of Emerson being “the one.” Not that she had any intention of ever saying those words out loud. She’d felt more from his kiss than any of the misguided fumblings with the guys in her past, and she was tired of waiting. At her age, it felt like her virginity hung over her like some kind of freaky Sword of Damocles. The longer it stretched out, the bigger deal it became. She was ready to retire her V-card and move on with her life, and Emerson was more than man enough for the job. It might be the only good thing to come out of the whole mess. Or that might be the adrenaline hangover and lack of caffeine wreaking havoc with her brain.

Either way, she had a plan. She was going to find Emerson, get a ride to her car, swing by the shop to see Connie and pick up her work, and then she was going to wait for him to get off. Before she figured out how to convince him to help her get off. Pun intended. Yep, definitely a post adrenaline buzz thing. She needed to fix it before she did something stupid, like throw herself at him.

The elevator dinged and she walked through the door and into a wall of muscle. Her breath went out in an oompf and she looked up into Emerson’s clear hazel eyes.

“Where are you going?” The accusation in his voice sobered her and shifted the warm feelings she’d been having for her rescuer to something much colder.

She fought the urge to stamp her feet and declare he wasn’t the boss of her, but the cedarwood scent of his aftershave reminded her what it felt like to have his body covering her, shielding her from the flying bullets. He’d put himself between her and danger; she could forgive a little bossiness. His grip on her arms tightened, and she blinked, trying to clear her thoughts, which would be a thousand times easier with a couple of inches of space between them.

She took a step back, and Emerson let go of her, as if he’d been scalded. But it was her skin that still felt the heat from his touch. If anyone was getting burned, it would be her. Not that she was complaining. The opposite was true. Now that he’d let her go, all she could think of was how to get his hands on her again. And then he opened his mouth, and the feelings changed again.

“Answer me, Sophie.”

“I was looking for you.” She muttered the ass under her breath. A little bit bossy was one thing, controlling asshole was another matter entirely. “I wasn’t aware I was your prisoner.”

“You know you’re not. Jesus.” He ran his hand through his hair in a gesture she’d started to recognize as something he did when he was frustrated. He did it a lot around her. She watched his chest rise and fall as he took a breath and let it out again. She could almost picture him counting to himself as some kind of coping mechanism. “Until we know who tried to kill you and why, it’s not safe for you to go running around unprotected.”

She’d been prepared to be indignant, but the way his eyes creased when he said the word kill was nothing compared to the way her chest tightened. She hadn’t lied to him in the hospital when she told him she wasn’t one of those women who went looking for danger. She’d had enough of it come into her life without looking for it and lost enough people to know how fragile life could be. And she wasn’t trying to make things difficult for him either.

“You didn’t have any tea.” Her voice sounded small, as if the enormity of her current situation was making her shrink in on herself. That wasn’t right either. She might not go looking for trouble, but she never shrank from a challenge. Sophie was a survivor. She’d proved that multiple times over, starting with making a life for herself after her brother died.

“What?” His face softened on the question and she could tell he was rethinking a few things too.

“Tea,” she said, standing up straighter. “I couldn’t find any, so I was coming to find you to tell you I was going out. I wasn’t running away.”

“I’m a lousy host. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you trapped up here by yourself. I could have at least taken the time to show you around or come back to the apartment earlier.”

“Don’t be silly. You had work to do. I’m not helpless.” She felt helpless. It didn’t sit well with her.

“You can’t go out by yourself. Not yet,” he added, holding his hands up in front of him. “But we can go out and pick up a couple of things to make you more comfortable and maybe grab an early lunch.” He paused for a minute and she could tell he was wrestling with something. “Unless you’d rather stay with Gabe and Berlin.” He looked as if it hurt him to say the words, and she pushed aside any feelings of insecurity she might be having. Whatever else might be going on in his head, he didn’t want her to stay with his brother.

“Not a chance.”

“Let’s go then.” He hit the elevator button for the ground floor and flashed her an unexpected smile.

She intended to expend some energy figuring out other ways to put that look on his face.

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THEY’D CRUISED THE aisles of Whole Foods, filling the basket with English Breakfast, Earl Grey, and an assortment of healthier than expected frozen dinners. She hadn’t needed the trip to the grocery store to tell her Emerson didn’t spend any more time cooking than she did, which was fine. It wasn’t that she was cooking adverse. There were always just so many things she’d rather spend her time and energy on. After her mom died—even before that, when she’d gotten sick—she and her brother had to fend for themselves. Noah tried but he barely managed a decent pea and ham soup. When he left for school, she hadn’t even bothered with that. More often than not, dinner had been Vegemite on toast or a bowl of Coco Pops. She’d never gotten in the habit of making more than the occasional chicken breast.

At her request, they’d gone from the grocery to the jewelry store. If she was going to be stuck hiding out, she needed to be able to work. Emerson already said he’d provide security for her for the Seaton trunk show, but she couldn’t expect him or his guys to shadow her the rest of the time. His kitchen table wasn’t as good as her bench but with an extra light and her tools, she’d be able to finish the bridal set she’d been working on.

She paused outside the door to the shop, her hand hovering over the knob she’d turned hundreds of times before. It wasn’t like she remembered the attack. The last thing she remembered was deciding on fries for dinner. But she didn’t need the actual memories to make her stomach feel queasy at coming back to the scene of the crime.

“You okay?” Emerson rested his hand on the small of her back, his body a warm, steady presence behind her.

“Sorry.” She shook her head, trying to clear away the feelings. “Just got spooked for a minute. I’m fine.”

She pushed open the door and heard the chime sound in the back of the store. Connie came through the doorway from the workroom, wearing a smile and a navy sheath dress that would make Sophie look like a ballpoint pen. It had the opposite effect on her boss, accentuating her curves in exactly the right way. Sophie watched her boss’s eyes widen in interest at Emerson standing behind her. She could look at him. She didn’t want to know if he was looking at Connie with the same kind of interest.

Of course, he was. She was gorgeous. A man would have to be blind not to notice that. Sophie looked like a teenage boy next to her.

“Oh, honey.” She hurried around the counter and wrapped Sophie in a jasmine scented hug and made her feel like an ass for her thoughts about her and Emerson. “I was so worried about you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Honest.” Sophie’s eyes pricked with tears and she blinked to keep from embarrassing herself. It felt good to have Connie fuss over her. So good she resisted the urge to point out the fact that it made her boss seem like a mother hen. She knew how much she’d hate that.

“Did they find the guy? I haven’t heard a thing from the police since I answered their questions at the hospital. Is it safe for you to be out in public?”

“We’re just making a quick stop,” said Emerson, stepping out from behind Sophie.

She tried to ignore the way Connie tipped her head and leaned forward slightly. It was the same posture she used when she was trying to charm some guy into buying a bigger diamond for his wife.

“But you said someone shot at you? I don’t understand.” Connie straightened, and a crease marred her normally smooth forehead. “You mean like with a gun?”

“Emerson was there. He kept me safe. Honestly, he was in much more danger than I was.” Sophie glanced over her shoulder and found him watching her instead of paying attention to her boss. Something in her chest relaxed a fraction, but she didn’t like herself very much for it.

“You’re Emerson?” The crease on Connie’s forehead deepened.

Sophie had to get out of there before the thing became permanent. It would be a horrible way to repay her boss for worrying about her.

“Southerland Security,” he said, offering her his hand. “Seaton Purveyors is one of our clients. I’m looking out for Sophie until we get things sorted.”

“Of course,” said Connie, nodding like everything suddenly made sense.

Sophie wished it made sense to her. Every time she thought about the attack, she had to fight the feeling that she’d been dropped into an alternate universe. In the world she normally lived in, gunmen didn’t go after twenty-three-year-old jewelers. Not ones who spent more time working with seed pearls than diamonds anyway. The thought gave her something to anchor onto, and she started toward the back of the shop.

“I suppose I can reschedule the trunk show with Seaton again. Of course, I can,” Connie said more to herself than to Emerson or Sophie.

“That won’t be necessary. Not unless Sophie wants to. We can provide security for her for the event.” He watched Sophie, waiting for her response.

She didn’t care much about the show. Color matching row after row of pearls into perfect pairs had never been her thing, but the show was important to her boss.

“I’m not afraid.” Not, strictly speaking the truth, but it was going to have to be close enough.

“Only if you’re sure.” Searching her face, Connie reached for her hand.

Apparently waiting for Sophie’s reaction was turning into a popular pastime. It was one she could definitely do without.

“Positive. I need to grab my tools and the bridal set I was working on. I’d like to finish them before the show if possible.” It was foolish to think that any of the women who showed up for Seaton’s pearls would be interested in her designs, but the trunk shows usually brought out a fair number of brides, so it wasn’t impossible.

“Sure. I packed everything up for you. The flowers are gorgeous. I can’t wait to see it finished.” Connie hurried around the counter and came back carrying canvas rolls holding her bench tools and a few velvet-lined boxes. She found a tote behind the counter and tucked everything carefully away. “You’ll call me if you need anything. Promise,” she said, handing Sophie the straps.

“I will.”

“Oh God. I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop worrying.” She reached across the counter to crush Sophie in another hug. “You’ll take care of her?”

“Absolutely. I’ll guard her with my life.” Emerson’s words had the ring of a pledge, as if he were a knight taking an oath and not a bodyguard who’d already risked everything for her.

It must have been enough for Connie. She relaxed her grip on Sophie and nodded. “I guess that will have to do.”

By the time they got back to the car, it was too late to stop for lunch without risking the groceries spoiling.

“I didn’t really think that through. I should have saved buying the frozen stuff until last.” Emerson pulled out onto the main road. “I guess we could fix something at my place. Or I could call for takeout.”

“Oh, what about a bucket of chicken? My treat.” She pointed to a fast food place up ahead. They had the best mac and cheese to go with the crispy chicken.

“Seriously?” Emerson spared a glance in her direction. “You want to eat greasy fried chicken?”

“Absolutely. We can go through the drive-through and eat it back at your place while I beat you at the Arrangement. Unless you have to work.” She added the last as an afterthought. She hadn’t intended to tell him about the game, but he’d been such a snob about the food. She liked the idea of throwing him off balance.

“You can’t beat me at the Arrangement.” He said it as if it were a fact as immutable as gravity. “But I’ll be happy to let you try. If it would make you feel better.”

The man acted like he was doing her some kind of favor.

“You’ll let me? Oh sweetheart.” She slid as much honey as she could into her voice. “You have no idea.”